


Kibble

by The_White_Rabbit42



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Men acting cute with animals, One soft archangel, confessed feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 12:45:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16450214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_White_Rabbit42/pseuds/The_White_Rabbit42
Summary: Sam and Dean ask Gabriel to cat sit for you, and it leads to a surprising discovery.





	Kibble

This was beneath him.  The archangel Gabriel, Messenger of God, a being so powerful he could snap entire countries off the map, was  _ cat sitting _ .  Apparently, being part of Team Free Will put him on duties even the Winchesters wouldn’t deal with.

 

Pride aside, he was  _ so  _ not a cat person.  Dogs had always been his thing, with their goofy, lopsided smiles, and the way they’d wag their tails so hard their entire butt would shake whenever he returned.  His dad had really done the world a solid when he designed their lineage. 

 

Cats, on the other hand, had to have been one of Lucifer’s creations.   

 

The only reason he’d even agreed was because your name had come up in the conversation.  Something about it being yours and you being on a case. At least that’s what he assumed.  He hadn’t really bothered with the details, and, to be honest, they didn’t matter, so long as he had the opportunity to score some brownie points with you.

 

Ok, so maybe he knew  _ exactly _ what he was doing there.  Potential payoff or not, it didn’t make him any more enthused about spending the next however many days with your feline friend.

 

He stepped up to the railing, eyes scanning the bunker below.  He tilted his head, hands moving to his hips when he couldn’t see or hear a single sign of his new charge.  

 

“...Alright, you little bastard, where are you?”

 

***

 

He stood outside your bedroom, hovering at the threshold.  He tapped his chin thoughtfully. Was going in without your permission because your furball had pulled a disappearing act technically an invasion of your privacy?  

 

Indecision kept him caught in a web of what ifs, until his thoughts began to wander to just how many other nights he had lingered.  Not in this spot, of course. That would be creepy. Within these walls. Well beyond his welcome. Hoping he’d receive a coveted invitation back to your room.  

 

It wasn’t about sex.  Not  _ just  _ about it anyway.  He already couldn’t refuse you much.  There’s no way if you dropped trou in front of him he’d remember the word  _ no  _ even existed.  It was the thought of you allowing him someplace no one else had ever been.  

 

At least, he assumed that was the case, given how much you valued your privacy.  

 

However, the problem still remained that he hadn’t found a single sign of your cat.  He almost considered just snapping you a new one, until he realized you’d probably murder him - or  _ worse _ , exile him from your presence - because he lost your precious Mr. Meowmers.  Mittens? Whiskers? Regardless of whatever obnoxiously adorable thing you’d named it, he was  _ so  _ screwed if he didn’t find it.  

 

Maybe it was a prank.  Maybe all of you were on your way back, having a good laugh over his inevitable panic when he came up short one furball.  In a few hours you’d come strolling in, teasing him about stooping to pet duty before holding up some take-out and saying  _ the only cat I invite into my life is from the Yum Mei Palace, dork.   _

 

The frantic beating of a tiny heart suggested otherwise.  

 

He pushed through the door, ears straining for the source of the sound.  It was coming from the far corner, and as he peered through the darkness toward it, his brow immediately snaked up.  There, against the wall, was an abysmal sleeping situation that had to be too small for just about anything. 

 

At least he knew, without a doubt now, that  _ no one _ was staying in that bed with you, unless they were the size of… well, a cat.  

 

He appeared next to the headboard, trying to figure out the best course of action.  Did he just get rid of the bed altogether, grab the thing, and hang around to see the look on your face when you came home to a California King and silk sheets?  

 

He shook his head.  You’d probably find a reason to shoot him over that.  

 

He’d have to think about it.  The bed that was. The old-fashioned way probably worked fine for the cat.  He crouched down, making a clicking sound with his tongue as he tried to coax it out.  It scrambled along the carpet, an inaudible  _ thump  _ reaching his ears as it slammed into the wall, trying to escape.

 

“Easy, numbskull, I’m not going to hurt you”.  The response he received was a resounding hiss as he poked his head beneath the frame.  “Okay, then. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

 

It made no difference to him if the it was sedated until you came back.  Cat’s slept most of the day anyway, right? What difference did a few extra hours make?

 

He reached for it, intent on dragging it out by the scruff of its neck, when he froze as the most pathetic sound reached his ears.

 

… was it crying? 

 

Ah,  _ shit _ .  That was  _ not  _ what he’d been expecting.  Cats were supposed to be stuck up little assholes who pushed drinks off tables and left hairballs in shoes, not terrified little masses capable of making such  _ terrible  _ noises.  

 

“Alright, alright  _ you win _ ,” he winced throwing his hands up in defeat as dropped down onto the floor.  “I’ll wait until you’re ready to come out.”

 

He scooted up against the wall, fishing his phone out of his pocket.  “Just had to be a cat person, didn’t you,” he muttered, loading up a game of Candy Crush.  

 

***

 

He lost track of how long it took for the furbrain to calm down.  It certainly took its sweet time easing out of panic mode into curiosity.  By the time it began to creep across the carpet, Gabriel was stuck on what might have been the worst level in the game yet.  He got so into it, he almost forgot about his charge, until a dainty black paw emerged, swiping at one of his shoelaces. 

 

He snorted, and the little limb made a hasty retreat.  “I’m not gonna hurt you, kibble.”

 

An indelicate meow reached his ears.  Was that offense he sensed from it’s peanut of a brain?  

 

“Yeah, well, what else would you be if you’re such a scaredy cat?”    

 

This time when the paw appeared, it went straight for his pant leg.  

 

He chuckled.  “I’m shaking in my boots.”  

 

He conjured a shoelace, dangling it closer to the bed in an attempt to draw it out.  It took several minutes of play to distract it, and when it finally pounced, Gabriel was surprised.  

 

“You’re just a little guy,” he realized, grabbing it by the back of its neck and gently dragging it out from beneath its cover.  It gave an indignant yowl, flipping itself around and exposing its stomach.

 

“Excuse me,  _ girl _ ,” he amended, watching her curl herself around his wrist and kick in an attempt to get free.  He scooped her up, the movement startling her and almost sending her fleeing back into her hiding spot. 

 

“Hey, hey, hey, pumpkin, it's ok,” he soothed as she began to cry again, her small frame trembling in his large hands.  “I’m not going to hurt you, promise.” 

 

He released a calming burst of grace, cradling her against his him as he waited for the effects to take hold.  Once her fear had dissipated, she settled against him, an almost inaudible rumble starting in her chest as he gently stroked behind her ears.  

 

“See?  I’m not so bad.” 

 

She let out a breathy mewl, as if unconvinced, eyes owlishly looking up at him.  

 

“Those are some peepers you have,” he commented.  They were remarkable in an animal, the blend of colors deviating from the normal yellowish hues most black cats had.  

 

She chuffed as if to say  _ you’re full of it _ , head turning away where she buried it in her paws.  

 

_ Some personality as well.   _

 

He was impressed.  Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.  

 

***

 

He looked up from his phone as the pile of fur in his lap shifted.  Her back arched as tiny limbs gave a languid stretch. 

 

“Enjoy your cat nap?”  He asked, lips twitching in amusement.  She blinked, staring up at him as if just remembering his presence.  Her eyes narrowed shrewdly and, unless he was imagining it, wholly judgmentaly, of him and his pun.  “What?”

 

She rose, turning herself around with her nose in the air when she suddenly froze.  The hair along her spine stood on end, her claws springing out from between her toes and digging through denim.  

 

“Easy on the goods, squirt,” Gabriel warned, a little panicked as he pried her off the center of his jeans.  “What’s got you all in a tizzy?”

 

She let out a frantic meow, and he cupped her in his hands, nestling her against his chest.  She continued to stir, wide eyes looking around the room in alarm. 

 

“...have you not been in here yet?”  He questioned, inanely, as if expecting a response other than the way she tried to climb him like a tree.  “Woah -  _ relax _ ,” he hissed, her claws piercing the thin fabric of his shirt and catching his skin.  “I just moved us to more neutral territory.” 

 

He caught her by the scruff of the neck, delicately lifting her off him and turning her around before supporting her back paws with the palm of his hand.  “Kibble, this is the library. While it can be a thing of evil in regards to the lack of fun it contains, I assure you, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Library, meet the smallest, and arguably furriest, member of the Scooby gang.”  

 

Her ears went flat as he lowered her to the floor, small body backing up until it came in contact with his boot.  

 

“There will be none of  _ that _ ,” he insisted, nudging her forward before disappearing from the chair.  “You’re gonna end up scared of your own shadow the rest of your life if you don’t do something about it now.”  

 

He reappeared several feet away, instantly regretting his decision when an awful keening sound broke the silence.  

 

“For the love of - I’m here,” he waved his arms emphatically.  “Right.  _ Here _ .”

 

The noise stopped, delicate ears perking up as her head snapping toward his voice.  She made a dash in his direction, tripping over her paws in haste and becoming a bumbling wreck of ungraceful limbs.  She managed to stay upright until she reached him, one of her claws catching on the throw rug he was on, sending her sprawling at his feet.  

 

She blinked up at him, a little dazed.

 

“Not the most coordinated, eh?”  He crouched down, unsnagging her before he scooped her up again, bringing her eye level.  She walloped him on the nose, the tiny tap thankfully claw free, and his brow swept up with mirth.  “And feisty to boot.” A thought crossed his mind as she began to chew on his thumb. “Or are you just hangry?”

 

He received a pitiful noise in response, and dropped her back on her feet.

 

“Come on, Kibble.  Let’s go find you something other than me to sink your teeth into.”

 

He walked toward the door, pausing as he neared it to make sure she was following.  He watched her try to keep up with him, awkward gait stumbling every few steps. At this rate, you and the Hardy boys would be returning well before he and the furbag made it anywhere near the kitchen.  

 

“Jeez, you really don’t know how to use those things yet, do you?”  He plucked her up from the ground, plopping her onto his shoulder. “I know you know how to use _these_ ,” he tickled at one of the claws still hanging out on her back foot.  “So hang tight, and try not to fall off. Your owner would _literally_ tear me a new one if I broke anything on you.”

 

***

 

“Ooooooo-kay, then,” Gabriel said, brows furrowed as he closed the last of the cupboards.  There was no nothing. No cans of cat food. No dry mix. He couldn’t even find a single bowl or water dish for her.  

 

“You new in town, or what?”  He asked, leaning down on the countertop and playfully flicking the kittens tail.  It whipped back and forth a few times before she turned, attempting to pounce on his hand.  He pulled it away at the last second, dragging it down the length of the countertop and chuckling as she scrambled to catch up with it.  

 

“Sorry, but archangel is not on the menu tonight,” he said dryly, giving her a soft nudge once she caught him.  She lost her balance, flopping over onto her side, where she began to make a noise as if she were languishing away.    

 

“Drama queen, much?”  He stroked beneath her chin as he thought.  “Well, I have no idea what your standards are but I, for one, cannot stand what they try to pass off as food for you.” He made a face just thinking about how the smell lingered in his nostrils for  _ hours _ .  “Which means you are in for a treat.”

 

He snapped his fingers, conjuring everything a cat might consider eating.  Everything from Roasts, whole chickens and turkeys, to a variety of fish appeared on a buffet line of tiny plates, every miniature version just the perfect size for her.  She licked her chops as the delicious smells wafting over her. 

 

“There,” he gave the bridge of her nose an affectionate rub.  “If you can’t find something appealing out of that lineup, you’re on your own.”  

 

***

 

“Don’t panic!”  He shouted, unsure who the command was directed at more: him or the animal practically running in circles.  Frantic little cries accompanied the frenzied equivalent of the feline’s pee dance.  _ Think, Gabriel, think… where would the litter box be?   _

 

“Hey-ay-ay-ay!” He hissed, his back going rigid as she leapt onto it.  Tiny claws nicked skin as she scaled her way up onto his shoulder, paws swatting insistently at something behind him.  He craned his head, trying to figure out what she saw, only to find her batting away at thin air. 

 

“Yeah, not certain it’s the best moment for kitty crazy time, but whatever helps you keep your legs crossed.”  A desperate growl was his only response as she darted across his neck to the other side of him, repeating the motions.  

 

It took him another few seconds to realize she was trying to tell him something.  

 

“Angel, right,” he muttered, snapping a pan into existence as he snagged her off his shirt.  “Now, are you a fan of cedar chips or --”

 

The high-pitched snarl was enough for him to blink the standard contents into existence before tossing her in the center of it.  Her ears reared back, when he continued to stand there, her teeth bared in an indignant hiss. 

 

“... are you serious right now?”

 

The yowl was slightly less pitiful, but there was no mistaking the displeasure behind it.  

 

“Alright, alright, I’ll turn around,” he huffed placing his back to her and hearing her continue to make noises under her breath.   

 

***

 

He was running out of ideas on what to do.

 

He had regaledher, in detail, of many of his past adventures, and embarked on some of their own in an attempt to get her familiar with the bunker.  The library had practically become a kitty paradise with ramps, scratching posts, and all sorts of perches to explore. Toys littered the building from one end to the other, and at one point he had even conjured live game, though his charge had seemed less enthused with those. 

 

“Pretty certain it’s supposed to be the other way around.”  Wryness tugged at the corner of his mouth, eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched her leap off the floor to safety while a mouse scurried past her feet.  He laughed, smoothing the hair down along her spine before snapping the rodent back out of existence. “And I’m pretty certain your owner has the same problem, so you better work on that now if you don’t want to find yourself out in the cold.”

 

He picked her up, scratching affectionately along her cheek so she wouldn’t mistake his teasing for an actual ultimatum.  She responded by rubbing against him, contentment radiating into his fingertips through the vibration of her loud purr. 

 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said, holding her close as he flew them to the den.  He dropped back onto the couch, settling her on top his chest as he reached for the remote.  She seemed content enough to lay down, her eyes glancing toward the tv as he turned it on.

 

“Now, what should we watch?

 

***

Gabriel inhaled, letting out a deep sigh and jostling the dark pile of fur on top of him.  All he could find was sappy romantic comedies and bad sci-fi flicks, the latter of which weren’t nearly as good without you there.  Little limbs stretched forward, paws hitting his chin.

 

“Why can’t it be as easy as it is in the movies?”  He grumbled. She cracked an eye, head tilting curiously as he ran a finger along the back of her ear.  She stood up, body giving a quick jiggle from head to tail as if shaking off her sleepiness, before sitting.  Casually, she started grooming her paws as if he hadn’t just admitted something embarrassingly vulnerable. 

 

Then again, he wasn’t sure what else he expected from a cat.  

 

“It’s all the same thing.  Boy meets girl. Boy saves girl.  Boy and girl bond over harrowing experience, and BAM.  Happily ever after. But has  _ she  _ ever look at me any differently?”

 

The kitten stopped what she doing, ears twitching as he continued.  “How many times have I saved her? How many monsters have I fought with her?  How many  _ horrible _ movies have I watched because that’s what she likes?”

 

The cat gave the beginnings of an indignant growl.  

 

“They  _ are  _ horrible.  Just wait until she makes  _ you  _ sit through one,” he insisted.  “I’ve asked her out on countless dates to every place imaginable.  Paris. Rome. Bora Bora.” The kitten lost her balance, his entire body moving as he gestured emphatically while he spoke.  “I’ve done  _ everything _ I can think of to show her I’m interested.  I bring her favorite treats. I take her for terrible takeout.  I  _ try  _ to go places above two stars, but it’s like she doesn’t think she deserves anything better…” 

 

He stared up at the ceiling, missing the way the cat’s eyes grew wider and wider.  

 

“I wish she understood how beautiful she was.”  You were attractive, sure, but the kind he was talking about went deeper than that in a way that had become increasingly rare over the last century.   

 

He sighed again, frustration switching to heavier sentiments.  “Maybe it’s for the best. All I’ve is screw things up. Why would this be any diff--”

 

Two paws landed squarely on top of his lips, his small companion practically pouncing on his mouth.  He glanced down at her, and she looked just as surprised by her movements before she began to yowl at him.  

 

If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think she’d understood what he was saying.  Maybe she did, on an instinctual level. Animals were good at picking up on things humans often missed.  

 

He flicked her feet aside.  “Don’t worry about it, Kibble.  I’ll be fine.” 

 

She walked forward repeatedly rubbing herself against the side of his face before slinking beneath his chin.

 

“At least one of you is sweet on me,” he said, nuzzling against soft fur as she curled up against him once more.

 

***

 

He didn’t often sleep.  Boredom (and if he was honest, moping) were often the cause of him switching off for a few hours.  Dreaming while asleep? Even rarer. 

 

He couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to be having one of you.  He could feel the warmth of your body spanning his. You were laying on top of his chest, head tucked beneath his chin, your legs nestled between his in a way he could only, well, dream of.  

 

He reached up, fingers slipping through your hair as they gently stroked through tousled strands.  He wondered what you would be wearing. Would it be one of your old t-shirts? Maybe one of those strappy tank tops you preferred in the summer?  Or maybe he’d finally find you in the soft flannel pajamas he bought you last Christmas. 

 

His free hand stirred, fingertips trailing down along your spine, and what he found had him biting back an instantaneous reaction.  

 

Nothing.  You were wearing  _ nothing _ .   

 

So, it was going to be one of  _ those  _ dreams.  

 

He took his time, tracing tiny circles down your back, enjoying the simple contact of his fingertips moving freely upon your skin.  He got as far as your waist before you made the most intriguing noise. It was almost a cross between a soft sigh and a purr.

 

_ You’ve officially spent too much time with that furball. _

 

The thought dissipated as you began to awaken.  You arched your spine, the curve of your backside easing up along with your shoulders.  The cutest, sleep-laden sound slipped past your lips, eyes fluttering as you tried to blink the sleep from them.  

 

“Gabe?”  Your voice was thick, raspy, as if you’d been asleep for days.  “I… where…” You raised your head up in confusion. A chill blossomed across your skin, raising goosebumps in its wake.  Your eyes widened, glancing down the front of you, and the moment they met his gaze again he knew he was in trouble. 

 

He also knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was definitely  _ not  _ asleep.  

 

“What did you do to me?!”  You hissed, accusation flooding your tone.  

 

His stare matched your own, panic shooting through his veins.  

 

“What? I - I didn’t --”  He met your burning stare and his jaw dropped.  Your eyes. Not just the color of them, but the shape.  They were slightly distorted, the irises just a hair too oblong, the pupils too sharp along the top and bottom.

 

Oh  _ shit.   _

 

He immediately snapped up a blanket, watching you clutch it around yourself before scrambling back toward the opposite end of the couch.

 

Father, he was such an  _ idiot. _

 

Your stare suddenly widened, burning accusation snuffed out as you pawed at your ear, your face, down the front of you, before you took an anxious glance down your back.  

 

“ _ What the hell, Gabriel _ ?!”  You demanded, your cheeks a shade of red he’d never seen before.

 

He put his hands up defensively in front of him.  “Now wait just a minute --”

 

“Don’t  _ even _ ,” you warned, and if you were capable of killing him with your bare hands, you might have in that moment.  

 

Your tone suggested even if you couldn’t, you might still try.  “You turned me into a cat!”

 

His phone interrupted the quickly snowballing catastrophe, buzzing along the floor and belting out the Winchesters’ ringtone.

 

_ It’s the end of the world as we know it _

 

_ It’s the end of the world as we know it _

 

“I should probably -” he flinched at the look of pure murder that flashed through your gaze.  “... get this.” 

 

_ It’s the end of the world as we know it... _

 

He snapped, putting the call on speakerphone, where Dean didn’t even give him the chance to answer.  “We ganked the witch and destroyed the doll-cat-whatever-thing, which should have ended the spell. How is she?”

 

His lips twitched, unable to stop the sarcastic remark from flying out of them.  “Looking a lot like she just got her tail yanked. Minus the tail.” 

 

“... just the tail?”  Dean asked, confused. 

 

You finally hit your limit.  “Will someone please explain to me  _ what the hell is going on _ ?”  

 

***

 

He didn’t blame you for needing some time.  Transformative magic could be rather disorienting.

 

He could hear your movements from where he sat in the kitchen, playing with the greek coin he’d picked up centuries ago.  He tapped it against the table, listening to the water run in the shower attached to your bedroom. 

 

As the only female, you were the one the boys had given the bedroom that obviously was reserved for the head honcho.  It was the only one with it’s own bathroom attached, a luxury that had saved him building you your own wing so you wouldn’t have had to share the communal showers with the rest of the occupants.  

 

He listened to your footsteps as they padded back across your bedroom, likely finding something to wear.  You lingered, all sounds stopping save the even in and out of your breath and the steady, if not a little elevated, beat of your heart.  

 

By the time you emerged, he’d begun spinning the coin across the tabletop, the slightly uneven ridge causing it to spiral out in an ever widening circle.  You paused at the threshold, lingering longer than was normal. A tension blossomed in that short moment, one that tingled across the distance between the two of you.  

 

“God, I hate witches,” you muttered, leaning against the doorframe.  He wondered what he’d see if he looked up at you. He could already tell that things had changed.    

 

He wasn’t certain he was ready to see how much had just yet.

 

_ Whump _ .  He slapped his hand down onto the table, smothering the coin before picking it up again.  He put it back on its unstable course, a little too vigorous with the send off, causing it to bounce with a  _ tat-tat-tat.  _  “So.  You were…”   

 

From the corner of his eye he watched you run a nervous hand through your hair.  

 

“A cat?  Yeah.”

 

_ Whump. _

 

“Right.” He cleared his throat, unsure of what else to say.  He had spent the last two days being the biggest sap. Lugging a kitten around.  Doting on it. Snuggling with it every chance he got. 

 

Not it.   _ You _ .  

 

_ Tat-tat-tat. _

 

“How much do you remember?”  Nope. No awkwardness here. Everything was status quo.  Business as usual. Casual, casual, casual. 

 

_ Whump. _

 

You finally moved, slowly making your way toward him.

 

_ Tat-tat-tat. _

 

“I dunno,” your brow furrowed as you rubbed at your face.  “I’m - it’s a little…”

 

_ Whump _ .

 

You paused near the table, searching for the right word.  

 

“Fuzzy?”  He supplied.

 

Your mouth dropped open, and for a moment he expected to be booted straight from the bunker.  

 

“Shut  _ up _ .”  You were caught between amusement and anger, failing to hold back a smile as you thwacked him soundly on the arm.  “God, you’re such a dork.” 

 

His lip curled in response.  “Sorry?” 

 

You snorted, side eyeing him as you made your way to the fridge.  “No you’re not,” you told him, pulling open the door and grabbing a beer from inside.

 

He wasn’t, but that was because he couldn’t be sorry about anything that made your face light up that way. 

 

“Guilty,” he shrugged.  A thick silence fell between you.  It was distinct; the first in so long he couldn’t remember.  Mostly because the last time it had happened he’d gotten drunk, miscalculated the flight, and landed straight on your motel bathroom floor… while you were showering.  

 

But he tried extra hard to forget  _ that _ night never happened.    

 

He tapped the coin on top of the table, eyes dropping back to the metal where he gripped it tight.  “... I really didn’t know it was you.”

 

You nodded, and this time it was your turn to look somewhere else other than at him.  It only confirmed what he suspected: you remembered.  _ Everything. _

 

Well, it had been nice while it lasted.  

 

“So.  What now?”  Even as he asked, he prepared himself for the excuses.  Which one would it be? There were so many, and as much as he’d like to think none of them fit the type of person you were, there was  _ always  _ an excuse with him.  

 

“Well…”  You moved beside him, waiting for him to look up at you; ever the coward, he found it impossible, his stare riveted on the coin he’d always thought of as lucky until this moment.  

 

“I’m not really feeling up for Bora Bora yet, but… maybe we could start by watching some more terrible movies?”

 

His forehead wrinkled, eyes narrowing as he tried to figure out if he’d heard you correctly.  You reached forward, hand tentatively brushing over his. The contact had sparks shooting through him, short circuiting his mind in conjunction with his surprise until there wasn’t anything he could do  _ but  _ stare at the fact you were touching him instead of running in the opposite direction.

 

“Figured we could start with something easy.  If you’re still interested, that is.” You bit your lip, confidence faltering as he remained frozen in place.  Tense seconds inched onward, and it took your eyes muting in preparation to retreat to finally jump start his brain again.  

 

“Depends,” he said, linking his fingers through yours before you could pull them away.  “Will you still sit in my lap and let me stroke you?”

 

He finally looked up, and the smile that splashed across your features was one he hadn’t seen before. It was as shy as it was bold, and he brought your hand to his chest, drawing you closer in the process.  

 

“Play your cards right, feathers, and maybe  _ you’ll _ get your belly scratched this time.”  


End file.
